


hold me in this wild, wild world

by fruitwhirl



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, mafia!!!!, pre-relationship!!!, undercover!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 23:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20105620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitwhirl/pseuds/fruitwhirl
Summary: He wants to say he doesn’t know how he got into this situation, but he knows exactly how it happened (or, at least mostly): with a bet.It’s not news to anyone that he and his professional partner are competitive—Santiago is a type A tightwad who feels like she has to prove herself to everyone (except him), and Jake, well, Jake likes to spite her. And to win. He really, really loves winning.





	hold me in this wild, wild world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [santiagoswagger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/santiagoswagger/gifts).

> hi! i have not written a single b99 fic since april, and i wrote this as part of the b99 fic exchange for santiagoswagger! the prompt was "jake and amy undercover pre-show" and i couldn't help myself. this is most definitely inspired by leverage's fakeout-makeout with parker and hardison (see video [here](https://youtu.be/0k9Knwg9KaA?t=808), it's my favorite). title is from bastille's "warmth."

Jake’s mind is blank.

No matter how much Santiago or Diaz might tease him, it’s not normally this empty—in fact, it’s often teeming with ideas, with quips, with connections between new and old cases and cases that aren’t even his.

Now, though, any semblance of thought has dissipated in favor of processing the sensation of Santiago’s mouth, hot against his, her fists that clutch at the collar of his dress shirt to pull him in closer, and _God, _even the scent of her hair (pomegranate, which he didn’t expect). It’s overwhelming, terrible and incredible all at once, and can’t think of anything but her.

Oh, and the approaching shouts and heavy boots.

He wants to say he doesn’t know how he got into this situation, but he knows exactly how it happened (or, at least mostly): with a bet.

It’s not news to anyone that he and his _professional _partner are competitive—Santiago is a type A tightwad who feels like she has to prove herself to everyone (except him), and Jake, well, _Jake _likes to spite her. And to win. He really, really loves winning.

But it’s not a particularly well-planned competition; instead, it’s just he and Santiago just betting who can find and break into the secret room of a building that serves as an art exhibit _and _as a base for the Ventimiglias’ money-laundering business (because _everything _is a money-laundering business nowadays). Well, they think it’s for cleaning bills. It might be for trafficking drugs, which would be logistically worse but situationally cooler.

With the plan to sneak into a fancy art show with some of the most pretentious artwork he’s ever seen, Jake _would _have chosen to go as a guest, but he doesn’t own a tux. Instead, all he has is a white dress shirt left over from Charles’ wedding and a bowtie, so he has to resort to going as waitstaff. His lowkey disguise is even more irritating when he picks Santiago up, and she’s dressed to the nines.

(He tries not to stare, but he’s used to her pantsuits and the frock she’s wearing is tight, ending above her knees and leaving her shoulders bare. It’s really, really distracting.)

It irks him, as she’s going as a guest—she ends up finding some lonely guy with whom to be eye-candy—and he has to go as the help, but he knows that Santiago can’t act for shit so it’ll be fine.

Really, it should be fine.

(He’s definitely getting the weekend off that they’re using as the prize. There’s no way he’ll lose.)

Over his earpiece, he can hear her half-hearted flirting with the goon she’s attached to, while he serves some sort of unpronounceable food that looks like melted ham to guests/possible mafia members. It’s so boring he almost wants to back out of the bet entirely, but then someone hits a glass with a fork to make a _clink clink _sound and then they’re talking as a crowd gathers around some truly god-awful painting.

Jake and Santiago make eye contact across the room, wordlessly agreeing to start looks while everyone is distracted.

“Bet I can find the room before you’re able to get away from your guy,” he mumbles, and he watches as she rolls her eyes at him, then leans up on her tiptoes to whisper in her companion’s ear. She says something about powdering her nose, which is the _lamest _excuse in the book, but apparently it works because she’s heading towards the staircase.

In this moment, Jake decides to go off in a different direction (he might jog, just a little).

He _will _win.

Unfortunately, though, when he gets to the unmarked door that _should _be secret-illegal-room, Santiago’s already there, and she looks concerned.

“Can’t you pick a simple lock?”

Santiago hits him on the shoulder, exasperated. “It’s not locked, but there’s a silent alarm.” At his questioning look, she shakes her head, explains, “I checked out the city-planning records yesterday to see if any warrants for alarm renovations had been approved recently. Basically, if we open the door at all, we’ll trip the alarm and a dozen guards will come and beat us up.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that to me before?”

“I wanted to figure out how to bypass it without you so I could win.” Honestly, he can’t blame her, and then she sighs, reaches into her little purse for something he can’t see. “But it turns out I do actually need you for it.”

He furrows his brow. “Wait, what do you—”

And then she’s grasping at the front of his shirt, a palm on his cheek, and kissing him, making him lose any train of thought he had.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about this before—she might infuriate him half the time, but she’s attractive and smart and kind of funny and brought him her mother’s soup when he was sick one time and it warmed both his body and his heart and _God, _now he can taste her and the peppermint gum she’s always chewing. His hands go to rest on her hips, one reaching up her back and he automatically pushes her up against the aforementioned door. Her hair is down for once, although a part of him wishes he could pull on her usual ponytail, he finds himself grasping at the soft curls in an effort to bring her closer.

She goes for his neck then, presses her lips to the crook of his jaw and he idly thinks that her dark, dark lipstick is staining his skin. “Ames,” he gasps, and she nips at his ear.

“Don’t stop until the guards get here,” she mumbles, and this grounds him, makes him remember that holy shit, they’re on the job.

It doesn’t matter, because Santiago makes a little noise and he’s lost in her again.

And then the guards actually _do _get there, and they have to fake cough to get them to separate and Jake is both a little flustered and sad about having five burly men walk in on their (albeit fake) make-out session, but Santiago doesn’t move more than five inches away from him as she peers over his shoulder.

“You tripped the silent alarm,” one of them grunts.

Santiago smiles shyly, ducking her head, just a bit. “Sorry, you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Jake chimes in. “We just wanted some privacy.”

Santiago giggles sickeningly, and the guard who spoke just rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you guys just can’t fuck in there.”

“Is there like a closet we could do it in instead?”

Jake chokes.

Amazingly, the goon gives them directions to storage closet J and Santiago thanks him, before shooing him and the rest of the guards away, and she kisses Jake once more while still in their field of vision, nipping at his bottom lip for show. When the men are gone, Santiago steps backward, pushing the door open with her back and dragging Jake inside. For a moment, he thinks that they’re going to continue making out, but she regains her composure rather quickly, and even if she didn’t, neither of them would be able to focus on anything but the copious amounts of coke that fill the room.

(They don’t end up talking about it.)

(He kind of wishes they did, but the closest they get to it is Santiago smugly saying, “I win” later that night when they call in for backup.)

(Frankly, he thinks it was a tie.)


End file.
